


busco un resto de mi sol

by 2davidbeckham3



Series: nunca fui gulliver [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Gen, Guti (cameo appearance), Prequel/Character Study, The González Blanco Family, removable heart au, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 11:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11988531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2davidbeckham3/pseuds/2davidbeckham3
Summary: How to Live Without a Heart: Step One.





	busco un resto de mi sol

**Author's Note:**

> First off, The footie fandom has so many good removable heart!fics that drove me to try and write this one! Everyone please go check them out.
> 
> Secondly, a million times thank you to my first official beta, [myblueworld](http://archiveofourown.org/users/myblueworld/pseuds/myblueworld) for your constant support. This wouldn't have been posted without you. Special shoutout to everyone else that encouraged me to post the fic.
> 
> Had this floating around for ages, whoops. Meant for last month's [(August)](https://footballprompts.tumblr.com/post/163661270425/august-prompt-set-rules-fanworks-should-be-posted) picture trope and shades of the trope prompt (soulbonding/soulmates) . It can almost work for this month's word prompt, but I hope to do another fic for that. 
> 
> (the real question is when will retired ex-Madrid players be saved from my ""character studies"" alternatively: will I ever write traditional fic)
> 
> Title from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=suvwD4Q8MMc).  
> 

After what felt like an eternity dodging invisible defenders, there’s the usual heaviness in Raúl’s legs, the loud rush of blood in his ears that cuts through the still of the empty field, but the familiar _thump thump thump_ of his heart is missing.

 

Raúl is seven when he realizes that he doesn’t have a heart.

 

Not in the figurative sense like he wouldn’t feel anything if María Luisa dropped her favorite necklace down the drain, but in the sense that he could hear the cars driving by, the brush of the grass beneath his feet as he walked in front of goal for one last penalty and nothing else.

 

Raúl nearly drops his ball when he twists on his heel to frantically sprint back home. _(Not again, not again. He already got yelled at for kicking his last one over the fence while practicing free kicks.)_  His hand’s clutching his chest, fingers digging into the threads of the ghost of a crest, trying to ward off the glaring emptiness in his rib cage that brought tears to his eyes and lump to his throat.

 

His mother’s in the kitchen, humming along to the radio while peeling potatoes for tonight’s dinner. The smile on her face turns into a sympathetic frown when she sees him. His fingers have gone numb, but he can’t let go, not the ball hugged to his ribs in a slippery, steel grip or the tangle of cloth in his right hand. It’s all a painful distraction from what’s missing. It doesn’t work.

 

Raúl takes in a shaky breath before using his left shoulder to wipe the mess of tears running down his face. “ _Mamá_ , what’s wrong with me?”

_“Raúl.”_ Her voice breaks and he can’t stop crying. It seems like an eternity passes by while he waits for her to wash her hands and dry them on the striped kitchen towel with Pedro’s sloppy handwriting at the bottom. The wait’s worth it, though, because she turns to him with her arms spread wide.

 

Raúl’s arms are around her waist in an instant. He’s heaving loud sobs into the soft fabric of her shirt, hugging her tightly, afraid that he’ll fall apart.

 

“You’ll find it again, _mi amor_ ,” she murmurs, running her fingers through his hair in slow soothing strokes. “ _Te lo prometo_.” Raúl closes his eyes to focus and it’s there. Her heartbeat is muffled against his ear, but the steady _thump thump thump_ is still clear. He didn’t need it, Raúl believes her because it’s _Mamá_ and that’s enough.

 

 

*

 

 

The second day Raúl doesn’t have a heart, he ends up going to school.

 

 _(Even_ Papá _told him he could stay. “Are you sure,_ mi’jo _?” But they were reading a book together as a class and he couldn’t fall behind._

_“_ Chiquitín _, wanna go out and kick the ball around for a bit?” Pedro asked before dinner last night – Mamá must have told him. It took fifteen minutes of passing the ball in silence before Pedro said “I cried for two days straight when I found out,” with a shrug before passing the ball back to him a bit softer than before. Raúl stayed silent for the rest of the time they were out there, but hugged Pedro when they were called to go inside the house._ _“_ Siempre puedes hablar conmigo, Raulito _.”_

_Mari Luisa did the same._ _The_ cocido _needed another half hour to be cooked just right, his mother said, so Mari offered to do homework with him while they waited. “Why didn’t I notice? Am I broken?” he’d blurted out, barely above a whisper since he couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Of course not,” then she poked his side and began tickling him until he let out a reluctant huff of laughter.  “You’re still you, aren’t you,_ Raulito _?” He was smiling when he agreed and her chest was just as blissfully silent as Pedro’s when they hugged.)_

Most of the class is missing when he gets to school, even his father notices, “I can still drive you back, _chiquito,”_ but Raúl shook his head. He’d have to learn how to come to terms with his new life someday.

 

In the end, it doesn’t help. Sr. Sanchez gives them the day off and lets them color the whole period. There weren’t enough students to do activities and the rest of the day is uneasily quiet.

 

“Do you know what’s going on, today, Raúl?” It’s Hugo who finally asks during recess and Raúl shrugs.

 

Except, when Hugo trips over him trying to imitate a skill he saw his namesake do over the weekend Raúl realizes that Hugo still has his heart. He’d hauled Hugo up by his forearm instead of grabbing his hand by accident; he feels it over his _lo siento, lo siento,_ and _please don’t tell_ quick and faint.

_Thumpthumpthumpthump—_

 

His blood runs cold and an unidentifiable feeling washes over him, somewhere in between jealousy and fear. Raúl wants his heart back. He _wants_ —

 

 

*

 

 

The third day Raúl wakes up without a heart is the day he stops counting because it doesn’t bother him anymore.

_(Except it’s only pretend. It does. It always does.)_

 

 

*

 

 

Raúl’s fifteen when things change.

 

He’s perfected his technique: _Don’t allow anyone to get too close._

 

And he doesn’t.

 

He holds his girlfriends’ hands when they ask and kisses them sweetly when he leaves them on their doorstep. His hands and lips don’t wander and skim lightly when they do.

 

 _(It’s subconscious at this point: avoid the jugular, avoid the wrists, avoid—)_.

 

It’s simple.

 

He’s fifteen when he realizes that his heart might not belong to a person.

 

Papá’s face crumbles when he first hears the news and Raúl wonders if this is what heartbreak feels like. There’s a sudden weight on his shoulders and dreams are crumbling at his fingertips.

 

Except, they’re not his dreams, but his father’s and his grandfather’s – illusions of Raúl González Blanco scoring a goal in red and white and calling Arganzuela home. For the first time in his life, Raúl wonders if his heart is in the Vicente Calderón. It wouldn’t surprise him if it was, beating somewhere just beyond the riverbank.

 

“I still love you,” Papá chuckles, throwing an arm across his shoulders and hugging him close. Raúl ducks down into the half hug and gives Papá a light pat on his stomach while easily shifting right in a move he’s ashamed to have practiced dozens of times.

 

“Even if I score against your team?” Raúl asks in a small voice that’s not as teasing as he would have hoped.

 

His father lets out a booming laugh anyways.

 

“Of course,” and Raúl didn’t need to hear the steady _thump thump thump_ of Papá’s heart to believe him.

 

 

*

 

 

The boys’ faces that surround him are unfamiliar, but he vows that he’ll get to know them soon enough. He’s just a bit farther north, he hasn’t even left Madrid, and he won’t change. He’s Raúl González Blanco.

 

He feels silly putting on a face and pulling back his shoulders to make himself appear taller, tougher. It’s like he’s trying to be someone older than he is, but there are no glasses to hide this face this time or a camera to perform to. It’s just him putting on a face for the boys that grew up in the shadows of a cosmopolitan empire colored by a regal violet and white.

 

When Raúl steps out onto the training ground, he notices a blond boy watching him with a smirk toying on his lips. It’s not mean like some of the others he’s seen, but teasing, like he’s laughing at a joke Raúl doesn’t understand. Raúl tries to ignore him and focus on what he does best. He dodges defenders _(Of skin and bones, like it always seems to be, but these are all teeth and unguarded ambition that make him taste blood and dirt)_ until he feels like he can’t run anymore and the blood rushing through his ears drowns everything else.

 

He’s tugging up his socks over the grass stains on his knees when he notices it. There’s something in the air, a buzzing, a foreign thrumming in his fingertips that makes him grin with anticipation.

 

 

*

 

 

Raúl’s fifteen when he thinks, for the second time in his life, that his heart might not belong to a person.

_(He’s Raúl González Blanco and a small piece of him thinks it might be destiny.)_

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a two part series, in which the second part is kind of an alternate ending? If you've seen _I Am Legend_ this one is the not-theatre ending where Will Smith's character actually survives. 
> 
> **Translations:**  
>  _Te lo prometo -_ I promise.  
>  _Chiquitín/Chiquitito_ \- Little one. (Just wanted an excuse to call Raul(ito) all of these diminutives)  
>  _Siempre puedes hablar conmigo_ \- You can always talk to me  
>  _Cocido_ \- Traditional Spanish dish that takes a long time to cook (according to my host mom)
> 
>  **Notes:**  
>  \- [This website](http://foroparalelo.com/deportes/Ra%C3%BAl-gonzalez-blanco-biografia-origenes-376279/) (it's in Spanish) is where I got all of the information about Raúl's family and childhood. The bit about the ball being kicked over the fence is apparently true. Also he apparently pretended he was older for something hence the "camera to perform to"  
> \- Hugo is made up and my reference to his namesake is Hugo Sánchez! (The real footballer that played for Atletico and Real Madrid, not the Club de Cuervos character)  
> \- I can't believe that the Vicente Calderón is no more, but it was(?) right next to the Manzanares River.  
> \- spot the guti cameo
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated and any question comments or concerns hit me up on [tumblr](http://kaligaga.tumblr.com/) (Also, to everyone that left comments on my other fic in the collection I saw them and loved them but missed my window to reply before it became awkwardly too late so so sorry!)


End file.
